


my kingdom for a horse

by words_unravel



Series: hurt/comfort bingo prompt fills (2010 card) [4]
Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Ostracized From Society
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-02
Updated: 2010-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1401151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/words_unravel/pseuds/words_unravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[<i>prompt:</i> <span class="ljuser i-ljuser"></span><a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://hc-bingo.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://hc-bingo.livejournal.com/"></a><b>hc_bingo</b> - ostracized from society]<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	my kingdom for a horse

**Author's Note:**

> [ _a/n:_ despite the title, this fic has nothing to do with kingdoms or horses…but there's magic?]

* * *

  
Spencer thinks he's dreaming when he stumbles into the clearing. At the other end sits a cabin and Spencer's hope for help is shattered when he notices how old and worn the roof looks, sinking in several spots, and the layer of dust that coats the windows. It's obvious that no one has lived here for a while.

He shakes his head to clear his blurring vision, cursing as he stumbles unsteadily toward the cabin. The sting in his calf is sharp, but the rest of his leg feels numb, stiff, and it's getting hard to maintain his balance. He goes down on the steps, knees cracking hard against the porch. The pain shoots through him and he can't stop from crying out. His vision blurs again, blackness curling in at the edges.

Tired and pained from the poison running through his veins, Spencer gives in to the void.

*

Spencer wakes with a huge gasp, sitting up so quickly that he nearly loses his precarious setting on the couch. Arms flailing, he manages to keep himself situated. That's when he notices that nothing hurts any more. The fever that had begun to work itself through his body was gone; the bite wound no longer stung, the resulting ache in his leg didn't thunder through his leg like before, and his head was clear as a bell. After a moment of taking stock of these things, Spencer finally looks around.

The interior of the cabin isn't much better than the outside. A layer of dust covers every surface and over in the corner, the kitchen counter is strewn with various pots and pans. In fact, Spencer notes, a small bookshelf on one wall seems to be the only thing that's in any order whatsoever. Each book is pressed neatly into its spot, the shelves dust-free.

They seem to be–Spencer tilts his head to the side, frowning–in order by color. Starting on the top shelf, dark blue fades into white into brown into green. He's seconds away from getting up to check it out when a voice speaks up behind him

"Oh. You're awake."

Startled, Spencer twists around too quickly. His hand slips from the edge of the cushion and this time he's unable to stop himself from sliding off the narrow couch. Although he manages to not brain himself on the corner of the coffee table, Spencer ends up firmly wedged between it and the couch.

 _Not the best day for my dignity,_ he thinks, and sighs loudly from the floor.

"Are you alright?"

Spencer tilts his head up a little to find wide hazel eyes staring at him from over the back of the couch. The question is asked in a curiously monotone timbre; however the eyes belie a lack of concern. Instead they are wide and inquisitive, curious.

This is Ryan.

*

Although Spencer feels a thousand times better–hell, he's _alive_ , holy fuck–there are still moments where he so tired that he has to sit down or his legs will give out. Ryan explains that although magic is great for healing, there are still pieces of the poison in his system affecting him.

"Magic isn't infallible," Ryan says during one of these episodes. Sprawled across the living room rug, Spencer's eyes keep drooping. It's the middle of the morning and he's only been awake a couple of hours so he shouldn't be tired, but his knees are as wobbly as a baby colt's and the rug is _really_ comfortable.

"It's not infallible," Ryan repeats. "And it definitely isn't a cure-all."

Something in Ryan's voice catches Spencer's attention and he forces his eyes open. Ryan's staring out the kitchen window and Spencer thinks he looks infinitely sad at that moment. However, when Ryan turns his head toward Spencer, the look is gone. He wanders over, pulling the afghan off the couch and draping it over Spencer.

"If your body says sleep, you should listen."

Spencer wants to scoff, but he'd chopped half the forest this morning, wanting to give something back for everything Ryan's done. There'd been glaring, a silent protest, but it's obvious the only reason is that Ryan knew he'd pay for it later. He's still trying to fight sleep off when Ryan squats beside him and brushes his fingers lightly across Spencer's brow and says in a quiet but firm voice, "Sleep."

Before everything fuzzes out, Spencer makes a mental note to yell at Ryan later. And then he's asleep.

*

Things settle into a routine after that. Spencer had been traveling without direction or reason when he'd been bitten, and now he's got no urgent need to move on quickly. Ryan seems more than happy to have company and quits complaining after the third day about Spencer over-exerting himself. The episodes of weakness wane and within a week, Spencer's down to one nap every afternoon. Mostly it's because Ryan seems to always take one and it tends to be boring without him around.

Spencer returns back to the cabin one particular afternoon, two rabbit carcasses over his shoulder, to find Ryan surrounded by his books.

"What's wrong with the way they were sorted before?"

Ryan hums at him, a questioning noise; he's not really paying attention to Spencer. Tossing the rabbits on the counter, he moves toward the sink to wash his hands. It's still pretty neat to him, the way Ryan had magicked running water.

"The way they were before, what was wrong with that?" Spencer dries his hands on a rag hanging from a drawer handle, glancing over.

Sliding another book onto the shelf, Ryan responds with, "They get bored."

"What?"

Ryan looks at him over his shoulder. "They get bored easily. So I rearrange them periodically to alleviate that." He switches one book out for another. Spencer notes that it's nearly the exact height as the one next to it. The first book is a tad bit shorter.

"So, you're putting them in order by height this time?" Ryan's full of odd little quirks, but Spencer likes that about him. It's a personal victory when he gets something new from him. Ryan's eyes crinkle at the corners and Spencer thinks that Ryan likes it a little, too. Wandering over, he asks, "Can I help? It'll go faster with two people."

There's a moment of hesitation and then Ryan half-turns, handing one of the books to Spencer. The way Ryan is watching him makes Spencer a bit wary. He shrugs it off, taking the book and placing it on the shelf. When nothing happens though, Ryan relaxes and orders him to start putting one of the stacks in order. They work for over an hour, chatting about random things. It's comfortable. It's always comfortable, Spencer thinks.

He gets a paper cut, finger sliding over the pages of an illustrated book of dragons. Ryan takes it from him and says to be thankful, he once had heat blisters for nearly a whole week from that one.

*

It's another two weeks before Spencer finally asks Ryan why he's living all alone in the middle of the forest.

Ryan is silent for so long that Spencer becomes uncomfortable. He shifts in his seat, mouth opening to say _nevermind_ when Ryan says softly, "My father died about a year ago."

Spencer's about to offer a platitude, when Ryan continues, "He was. Well, he–" The words seem to be stuck in his throat and Spencer watches him swallow hard. He rests a hand on Ryan's shoulder and Ryan leans into it, just a little.

"He was a drunk," Ryan finally says. "But he knew most of the town, so it afforded us a bit of–" He bites his lip, searching for the right word. "Safety, I guess?"

He finally looks at Spencer, giving him a small, deprecating smile. "As you've seen, I'm a little bit...unusual."

Spencer can't help the way the corner of his mouth tilts up. "Unusual doesn't really cover it, really. I'd say–" He tugs on one of Ryan's curls before settling his hand back on Ryan's shoulder. "Unique."

He's kind of charmed by the light blush that pops up on Ryan's face. Ryan is one of the most unflappable people Spencer's ever met. In the time that he's been at the cabin, seeing Ryan flustered has been a rarity.

It doesn't last long though, Ryan's chin hitting his chest as he looks away. His hands are twisted around each other and he deliberately separates them, moving them to lay flat on his thighs. With a sigh, he says, "Well, although you seem to appreciate it–" Spencer can hear the wonder in Ryan's voice, even through flat tone. He can hear the need in it, too, and he wonders how he can read Ryan so clearly in the short time they've been around each other. It's a thought for another day as Ryan's voice breaks in, interrupting his thoughts.

"Most people don't like–" He bites his lip. "Unique is not a concept that they welcome with open arms, Spencer." The look on Ryan's face has Spencer's teeth grinding together.

"When my father was alive, like I said, it offered a bit of security. When I was little, he tried, I know he did, but–As I got older, other things started happening. I think eventually it was too much for him as well, and he started to drink." Ryan sighs. "He'd drink himself to sleep each night until eventually he didn't wake up one morning."

Spencer knows instantly that Ryan discovered the body. It's probably the one and only time that Ryan's ever lost control, let something else show. Ryan confirms it a moment later.

"I didn't know what to do when I found him. I'm fairly sure the town doctor thought I'd gone mad." There's blankness on Ryan's face that belies all the emotions Spencer knows are swirling under Ryan's skin, in his head. His voice holds a tinge of bitterness when he says, "They all thought I'd done it, you know? No one ever accused me to my face but everywhere I went, I could tell. Whispers. Glares." Ryan's staring at his hands again.

"Things got–Well." He shrugs. "So I left." The _before they made me_ is very clear. Spencer has the sudden urge to burn some stupid people's houses down.

Ryan is obviously done talking and the silence is heavy. Spencer pushes his anger away and stands.

Stretching, he doesn't look at Ryan as he says, "Well, you're stuck with me for a while. Winter is coming–" It's still months away, the leaves are barely starting to turn. "And I'm not one for traveling in the snow. Plus your roof really, _really_ needs to be repaired and that might take a while."

There's humor laced under Ryan's voice, and warmth, when he replies. "You should probably see if you can get some more rabbit, too." Spencer glances over, curious. "We'll be having visitors pretty soon."

Spencer's eyebrows rise. "Oh?"

Ryan wanders away and becomes intently interested in the bookshelf all of a sudden.

A thought occurs to Spencer. "Hey, wait. Did you see me coming?" Ryan continues to not look at him, fiddling with one particular book. He shifts it over a couple of spaces while Spencer waits for an answer.

"Ryan?"

Ryan finally turns back toward Spencer. He's got his avoidance face on, eyes sliding to look over Spencer's shoulder. Spencer's about say something else when the book he'd just placed on the shelf shoots off the shelf, catching Ryan in the middle of the back before falling to the floor. It lays neatly, no pages bent, in the stunned silence that followed.

The disgruntled look on Ryan's face makes Spencer burst out laughing. Ryan frowns at him before moving down the hallway towards his bedroom. Spencer can hear the tail end of something that sounds a lot like _they like him better than me, I swear._ With a smile, Spencer picks the book up, sliding it back into the empty space. He waits, but nothing else happens.

Spencer yells toward the bedroom, "They totally like me more, Ross!" There's a humph, but no other response. Spencer grins harder, grabbing a knapsack and heading out of the cabin.

They have guests coming and Spencer has some dinner to catch. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [bingo master list (LJ)](http://prettykitty-fic.livejournal.com/15631.html)


End file.
